


In the Silence of the Galaxy

by Raptorspring



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, M/M, Mandalore, Older Man/Younger Man, Slavery, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Force, honestly guys you need to chill, way too much guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 03:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20333242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptorspring/pseuds/Raptorspring
Summary: Disgraced former Jedi Master George Washington gave up on life when the Jedi fell and the Empire ascended to power. Years later, a voice in the void of the Force calls for him, a young rebel has been living far too long in silence, and it's time to shout.





	In the Silence of the Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I just wanted to write something with Alexander and Washington and it kind of spiraled out of my control, the idea just kept on growing and here we are, so I hope you enjoy my silly space opera fic with George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and the Revolutionary Squad.
> 
> Not beta-read, so beware them typos...

Washington had given up on living a long time ago.

At this point in his life, he was merely existing and he saw no need to do something to change that. The apathy clung to his bones, it became the norm some odd years ago, after everything he once had been died without taking him with it, leaving him as a spectator of his own failures.

For many years he thought of his own survival as a punishment, and then later he just accepted that there was nothing good nor bad in him living, there was no divine intervention nor a plan, he was alive when most if not all people like him had been slaughter from the galaxy.

His life didn’t make a difference, the Jedi Order was no more, and him surviving their extinction didn’t matter.

Washington didn’t care, so he let that knowledge become history, and continued with the mockery of a existence he had. After the life of his brothers and sisters was ripped from the living, shredded away from The Force, he died with them, even if his body was still breathing, he was no more alive than those whose path in the world of the living was no more. Forgotten, as the darks side engulfed the Galaxy before his eyes and The Jedi became a myth of times pass, little more than stories in the silence.

He left the Jedi knight behind, he was no one now, and no one he became.

It had been as so for nearly two decades. His own senses shut from The Force, dormant, allowing the gaping hole in his chest to remain numb instead of raw and bleeding with the permanent injury that was the death of every single Jedi he had known, all those sparks smothered at the same time…

His bonds with the people united by The Force had gave him so much of his humanity, and their abrupt and cruel extension had all but killed him as well. In the numbness of existence, he found solitude, some perverted form of peace he didn’t deserve, and he clung to it.

Until the Force called for him.

It started with a dream, or his personal and eternal nightmare. The recurring memory of his friend Rho turning his blaster on him, along his whole clone commando squad. Rho’s hand was firm as he pointed the blaster to his head once Washington was on the ground, ready to serve the finishing blow. There was nothing Washing could do to stop him, between the mortal wounds he had taken and the life of every single Jedi connected to him via The Force being extinguished, Washington was drowning.

Something was different, this time he didn’t woke up after locking eyes with Rho behind his tinted visor, this time, Rho’s hand was shaking.

“G-General,” the broken voice of his friend was as loud as the screams of his dying follow Jedi in the distance of The Force. Rho screamed then as well, shaking his head and turning on his own squad, firing his blaster against his brothers with the same agony they shared while raising their own blasters towards him.

“Back off!” Rho screamed, aiming to wound and not kill, “That’s an order!”

The squad screamed with him, and instead of backing off, all of them turned their own blasters on themselves, begging to be release from their orders, their will taken away by the design that gave them life.

It was cruel, as cruel as the executions they were forced to carry.

Rho was shaking so badly he could barely hold the blaster, he tore the helmet from his head and stared at Washington with bloodshot eyes, blood running down his nose, a silent scream engraved in his tortured expression.

“Leave,” his friend whispered, pain and regret lacing his words, “LIVE!”

Before Washington could said a word, Rho turned his blaster on himself, ending his life as his stolen will allowed him to do one last act of freedom.

Live!

_Live!_

Washington woke up that word echoing in his mind, thought the silence The Force once filled in his life. He stood with shaking legs and trembling hands, barely containing the pain piercing his chest, the phantom, gaping hole that once was filled with presence of his brothers and sisters in The Force, then the numbness of nothing, pulsing once again.

He had not felt like this in decades. He even forgot the massacre of his friends, whom even robbed of their will were able to let him escape, he forgot Rho’s words, he forgot everything.

Until now.

It was a bittersweet moment, for he had shut himself away from The Force so long ago. Being forcefully put back into it hurt like nothing had hurt before. He was empty, so empty he could barely breathe, if the desperation was terrible before, it was nothing compare to now.

Washington followed the whispers, unsure if there were really the vestiges of the Force guiding him, or his own insanity finally getting the best of him. Either way he kept moving, he could do nothing more.

The hot, humid air of Nal Hutta gave him no comfort, nor displeasure, but in this belly of the best, the calling was stronger, and when the voice quieted, Washington wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

There was something… no, someone. In this planet filled with the danger, there was someone calling for him through The Force. It was suicidal, to walk Nal Hutta as if the place was safe, when in reality it harbored the most powerful and dangerous crime families in the galaxy, The Hutt Cartel.

Here, in the Outer Rim of the galaxy, the hand of the Empire was present, but not in charge. Mercenaries, bounty hunters and smugglers were united by a strange kind of order, the parody of law that was the Hutt command over the shadows.

Their reign extended far and wide, but it was in this planet where it had born.

It was madness, but Washington had given up on his own sanity long ago, so he walked Nal Hutta like the people that truly belong there, and followed the whispers calling for this presence.

The place was dimmed, the low light casted shadows the covered the patron’s faces as the low music filled the place. Silence followed in preparation of what Washington could tell was the anticipation of whomever was on the stage.

A young man was bathed in the purple and blue light. Lose clothes framed his figure, tired eyes stared ahead as his voice sang an old song. There was so much sentiment in those words, a language that sound familiar yet was strange, close to unknown. It was captivating nonetheless, and Washington couldn’t look away.

When the song finished, the young performer vowed for their host, and Washington recognized with dread the presence of Yintta The Hutt of the Desilijic Clan. Back in the days of the Republic, Yintta stood close to his cousins, while it had been the infamous Jabba who stood taller than most, Yintta had not been far behind.

The slug like creature extended his hand towards the young performer, and he took it without even a flinch, as if this was normal, expected…. required.

It took Washington and embarrassing amount of time to notice the collar around the young man’s neck. Subtle, could almost simply pass for an accessory, and perhaps for most it would. But Washington knew how The Hutt Clans worked, he knew that this young man was not a performer, worker or ally, he was a possession.

A slave.

Something stirred in Washington's heart, a need he had not felt in years, something he could not explain. That need only grew stronger and stronger, like vices howling and pleading as he put distance between himself and the place where he had found the young man.

He couldn’t even last a day before he was back in the same area, roaming the dark alleys and corners in search for the calming presence of a man he had no knowledge about, not even a name.

In the end, he didn’t find the young man, but the other way around.

“I don’t take kindly to being follow,” the young man spoke in galactic basic as he walked closer, blaster ready and pointing towards Washington’s chest with no hesitation, but then his expression broke into a smile, “Oh, it’s you.”

He lowered his blaster, curious eyes searching into his own.

Washington strode closer, his steps firm. With a secure and powerful grip, he took the blaster from the young man’s hand and secure his wrist on his hold without resistance, the young man barely huffed at the action. For the roll of his eyes he thought about this more as an inconvenience than Washington forcing himself into his space.

“Your name,” he asked, the hint of the order was there, unspoken yet present. “Tell Me.”

The young man blinked lazily, tilting his head to a side, looking Washington up and down before fixing his eyes on Washington's and letting the silence linger. Washington tightened his hold on the young man’s wrist, feeling delicate bones grind against each other, earning a hiss of pain and a glare from the younger man.

“Alexander Hamilton… Alex if you will,” he spoke with no reluctancy, not even after Washington forcing his grip on him, “And you are?”

He had used many names in the years after the fall of the Jedi, none of them important, after all he had been nobody and as nobody he remain.

Not anymore.

“Washington,” he answered after years of not even thinking himself as such. He was no Jedi, the order was dead and so was he, but the Force was still with him, louder and louder, bothersome, it was driving him mad, yet Alexander’s presence, his touch, was keeping the insanity at bay.

How? Why? He couldn't tell, and he was not sure he even cared.

“Were you waiting for me?” Washington asked, and for the red flush in the young man’s cheeks, he could tell he wasn't far from the truth, “I saw you dance for Yintta.”

Alexander made a face, his free hand going over the collar at his neck without even thinking it. Washington took that hand as well, gentler this time, lowering it at his side, before touching the collar himself.

“I dance,” he said easily, “I sing, and I do whatever Yintta wants, that’s life.”

Something in the Force echoed, and Washington asked the question: “But are you living?”

Silence stretched between them, he wasn’t sure if he was asking Alex that question, or it was directed at him as well. He knew the answer for himself, there was no life in him, not before coming here and finding the blessed silence in Alexander’s presence.

But what about Alexander?

“I am not,” the younger man said, smiling. He then moved forward, standing on his toes to reach Washington's mouth in a strange, caste kiss. Short and almost sweet. Nothing like what Washington wanted to do to this beautiful creature, nothing like those eyes were silently asking him to do. “Will you help me live, then?”

“Is not my place,” he said, unsure of why he was hesitating. There was nothing for him out there, not even death. Here, in this alley, was the first time he had feel alive since Rho took a blaster shot to the head, since Washington was betrayed and failed to protect his friends, brothers and sisters.

Alexander glared at him, and in a quick turn freed himself from Washington's hold, taking his blaster with him as well. He took a step back, and huffed.

“I’m not in the mood for this, old man.” There was a beep around them, but not a presence. Alex took his comm out of his jacket and looked at it with disinterest, closing it afterwards. “I’m leaving, tell me when you’re ready to do something, I’ve been waiting too long already.”

And with that he was gone.

Washington wasn’t sure what to do next, but he stayed in Nal Hutta, where there was no other option but to work for the Hutts. He was silent, strong, and pretended loyalty like no other. It started with odd jobs and low contraband, and it escalated from there.

It was hard to maintain his blank expression when he was around Alexander, even more so when the younger man was in Yintta’s lap being touched by the enormous slug, and everyone acted like there was nothing wrong with that.

It shamed him to admit that he wasn’t angry to see Alexander being manhandled by the giant slug. He was angry that it wasn’t him overpowering the younger man, having him obedient in his hold as he did what he wanted to please them both.

The spark was back. It burned from his belly to his chest. The desire was constantly accompanied by shame, but it was better than the emptiness he had been feeling, it was better than nothing. So he let his shame bun low in favor of slowly learning once again how to be human, how to live instead of merely existing.

Washington remain close to Alexander, and the younger man seemed pleased with this development. Alexander allowed him to know more about him, his real self, not the obedient servant he presented himself to be to Yintta the Hutt.

Alexander was fire, burning high and fast in some instances, low and dangerous in another's. Him carrying a blaster was not for show, the young man had a marksman skill like no other Washington have seen since the Clone Wars. The boy could be compassionate and ruthless depending on the situation, and he carried a heavy burden behind those dark eyes.

But Washington could not, and would not judge him. Alexander was surviving against the current that threatened to drown him every single day. Washington had been a good man, once, and now it would be hypocritical of him to pass judgement as if he were without blame.

He survived, but he failed to do what Rho asked of him, he failed to live.

One night, Washington found himself staring at the open window. The night was humid, too hot as it was usual for the Nal Hutta. The sweat drizzled down his spine in a bothersome, slow pace, but he didn’t care. His eyes remain on the window still, until the figure of Alexander stood there against the moonlight.

“Were you waiting for me?” Alexander asked, jumping from the window. He remained apart for a moment, hesitant, perhaps. But in the end his slow steps took him to the foot of Washington’s bed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said calmly, “Your arrival is a pleasant surprise.”

There was something odd in Alexander’s stand, and it wasn’t long until Washington was able to notice the blood running down his temple and the bruises decorating his neck and arms. Washington was on his feet immediately, assessing the damage while Alexander endured this with tired dignity.

There was so much blood…

“It’s not mine,” he said before Washington could ask, “Most of it, anyway, I couldn’t dodge the cut to the temple… nor the one in my arm… but the rest…”

“What happened?”

He made Alexander sit on the bed while he got the medical supplies from the bathroom. His mind was methodically cataloging the wounds and the best way to treat them, while Alexander merely let him. Part of him wanted to demand answers immediately. But a wiser, less desperate part of him won the argument.

Alexander was not going to give to pressure, he would talk only if he wanted to, so Washington gave him room to do so.

“Yintta had an undesirable guest,” Alexander began, “He owned Yintta far too much money by the end of the night, and instead of paying, he insulted Yintta and the Hutts, then overstayed his welcome… Yintta send me to escort him out, and things escalated.”

Washington grimaced, “Yintta knew it was going to be this way.”

“Obviously,” Alexander agreed, “He ordered me to try to escort him out, if asking failed, I was to remove the nuisance, even if he was to stop breathing before doing so.”

Alexander remained silent after that. He let Washington clean and dress his wounds, staring to his feet the whole time. He let Alexander have this moment, no judgment or more question, just the space Alexander seemed to crave.

“I hate it,” Alexander whispered, his hands clutching the fabric of his trousers. “I didn’t want to kill the damn fool… but it was easy once I got the right opening… it was so damn easy… it makes me sick,” a sob shook his entire form, his head low as his shoulders trembled and his voice broke with emotion, “I’m nothing more than Yintta’s puppet, and I fucking hate it.”

Washington was quick to take Alexander by the shoulders, forcing the younger man to look at him in the eye, his resolve stronger as his voice spoke whatever conform he could offer.

“You are surviving in a terrible situation,” he assured Alexander, “It’s terrible, what Yintta makes you do, but it’s not your fault, Alexander, it is not.”

Alexander freed himself off his hold but didn’t move from the bed. His eyes were shining with unshed tears and his breath was ragged. The younger man glared at him, and then his lips were on Washington’s in a demeaning, almost violent kiss.

For a few long seconds, Washington was unable to react, too stunned to even process exactly what was going on. Once his mind caught with the moment, he encircled Alexander in his embrace, and turned his head to end the kiss, watching the younger man’s reaction with caution.

“I want to stop feeling this miserable,” Alexander said, caged in Washington’s arms and with no intention of moving, “Please, make me feel something else, anything else.”

“You cannot be serious.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes and pushed his body forward against Washington, the contact was pure desire and he closed his eyes for a moment to control himself, only to find Alexander’s wicked grin once he opened them again.

“I have seen how you look at me,” the younger man whispered in a lascivious tone, “I feel the same way,” he pressed his palm against Washington’s chest, but did not move otherwise.

Washington was tempted to shove the boy out of his bed, out of the room, for what he was asking was far too much temptation. Washington wanted him, that much was truth, but he was not supposed to have him, he couldn’t.

“No, Alexander.”

His tone was firm, final, and not even himself could believe it.

Alexander stared at him without moving, and Washington was still holding him against his chest. A contradiction of his words, of the moral code he was trying to hold himself to. Alexander’s eyes softened little by little, and he spoke again, almost inaudible.

“Please,” he begged, “I need you.”

It was wrong, and Washington did it anyway.

He captured those soft lips on his own, warning a soft moan from the younger man. He guided Alexander to lay on the bed as he kissed him, starting soft, caring, only to morph into something sharper and more desperate. Alexander kissed like he was drowning and the only air he could get was from Washington’s mouth. He didn’t let Alexander take control, and his will dominated the kiss shortly after.

Washington pinned Alexander to the bed, holding both skinny wrist on his hand. He ended the kiss, letting Alexander gasp as he got air back into his lungs, while Washington trailed more kisses on his jaw and down his throat, biting where at his pulse point, earning another loud moan.

“Don’t make me gag you,” he warned, but Alexander dared to giggle at his words.

“You might have to,” he pushed his hips up, pressing himself against Washington, letting him feel how hard he was already. Washington was in a similar state, but he had no intention of making this fast, he has touch starved, he wanted this to last, but even more he wanted to make Alexander feel good.

The movements were clumsy as the disrobed with too much anticipation, but it was regarded with the soft, warm feeling of having Alexander nude beneath him, panting for his touch as he ran his hands over his body, memorizing each detail as much as he was able, marking him with kisses and bites along the way.

Alexander was barely containing the sounds Washington tore from him with each touch. Not wanting to be interrupted by the other patrons at the inn, Washington rolled a piece of cloth in a makeshift gag and forced it in Alexander’s mouth, while the younger man accepted this with restrained indignation that was quickly compensated when Washington took him into his mouth.

Shaking hands looked for purchased on his shoulders, Alexander’s needy moans were muffled by the gag, but his enthusiasm was no less contained, and Washington kept on teasing him. He forced his tights open, and dragged his fingers across his tight hole, making him almost jump in response. He was so sensitive, and Washington was getting drunk on the feeling of being the one pushing Alexander to ecstasy.

He stopped before Alexander reached his peak, earning a frustrated sound from the younger man. Washington laughed, kissing his sweaty forehead with perhaps too much affection, but his action was more than welcomed, if the intense blush in Alexander’s face was anything to go by.

From the medical supply he found some lube, and he used it to coat his fingers. He made Alexander bent his knees and he positioned himself between trembling thighs, running his fingers in exploration, touching him intimately, and slow.

Alexander’s chest was rising and falling in pants, his eyes quickly moving in between looking at Washington’s hands work on him, and stare into his eyes. Washington held his gaze and without looking away, breach him with one finger. The sounds Alexander was making were filthy, and Washington loved every single one of them. He loved the way Alexander arched his back, and how he fisted the sheets while Washington worked him open, adding a second fingers, then a third, dragging them in and out of his perfect, tight heat. He found the spot he was looking for, and Alexander almost shrieked into his gag, closing his eyes and thrashing his head from side to side, his hair a messy halo around his head.

If he were more patient, he would do this for as long as he could, taking Alexander to the edge only to bring him down, over and over again… perhaps he would, next time.

He retrieved his fingers, and before Alexander could whine at the loss, Washington grabbed his own neglected erection, and guided it to the boy’s tight heat, pushing into him inch by inch, until he bottomed out inside him.

Alexander moved his legs then, wrapping them around Washington’s waist, and pushing him even closer into himself. Washington moved along, holding himself over Alexander. His beautiful face was flushed and tear stained, his lips stretched around the gag. He looked debauched, and Washington felt more alive than ever before.

He moved when Alexander nodded for him to do so. A cautious rhythm at first that quickly turn unforgivable, frantic and almost savage, but Alexander clung to him while Washington continued to set the motion, far too deep to stop now. He could feel his desire grow, and his ecstasy built with each thrust. With one hand he held Alexander’s hand, and moved his other hand in between their bodies to take Alexander’s hard erection in his hand and pump in rhythm with his own thrusts.

Alexander’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when he reached his peak, the gag muffling his scream of desire. Washington felt his rapid beating heart against his own, and it was too beautiful, too perfect. He didn’t stop when Alexander was spent, instead kept this ruthless rhythm to chase his own release, aware of how his actions were making Alexander moan even more as his body was overstimulated.

The younger man held onto Washington, his eyes closed and tears running down his flushed face. Washington stilled with a grunt, spending inside Alexander’s trembling body, his tight heat perfect and welcoming.

He held onto Alexander as his senses returned to normal. Slowly, he pulled out of and Alexander shivered at his action, taking the gag to pant while Washington examined his work. Alexander would have some bruises tomorrow, marks of how Washington made him his tonight.

Alexander got up, throwing his arms around Washington’s neck, and kissed him again.

Tomorrow, Washington might question his actions. He would question them every time he took Alexander to bed, but even after questioning them, he would not stop himself from taking the younger man, from falling for him every single time.

Alexander made him feel alive, and he had no desire to give him up.

*****

Even after many nights of taking Alexander with tender kisses or rough bites, depending on their mood, Washington refused to listen closely to The Force. He had been called to Alexander, but The Force rarely let things be that simple, nothing was easy when The Force was involved.

Perhaps Washington was projecting, perhaps the universe had enough of him not doing anything, whatever the reason, Washington’s passive watch was destroyed when the situation before him turned too much to handle.

Alexander was slumped against Yintta as they watched the monitor showcase an organized brawl. Bets had been made, there was money on the line, because when it wasn’t? Yintta’s fighter lost shamefully, pitifully, and the anger of the Hutt was consuming the air around them.

The slug grabbed a hold of Alex’s hair and yanked him towards his chest, earning a cry of pain and surprise from the younger man.

“Your useless, pathetic friend costed me too much money, little one,” Yintta hissed, tongue poking to lick Alexander’s cheek in a showcase of dominance and intimidation that was working, the fear in Alexander’s eyes was too real, and it hit too close to home.

“I’ll pay you,” Alex said quickly, “You know I can get the money fast, I’ll double it, please my lord, I won’t fail you.”

Yintta made an angry, guttural sound, “You vouched for his life, and he failed me,” an enormous hand forced Alex to look at the monitors, “He won’t fail me again.”

With horror and a silent scream, Alex watched the fighter get shot from behind, his life ending quickly and with no warning. Tears pooled in the younger man’s eyes, unintentionally falling as he watched with horror the result of Yintta’s petty wrath.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Alexander whispered, and Washington couldn't tell for the life of him why the younger man was talking back to his master, not after all this, not when Yintta was this angry, “We are warriors, this… it shouldn't be this way.”

Yintta laughed, cruel and laugh, other joined while Alex barely reacted. His eyes still fixed in the lifeless body on the monitor, “You are no warrior little one, you are nothing more than what I say you are, and today…”

The slug reached between Alex’s legs, and such action got a reaction out of the scared young man. He pushed the slug away, but the Hutt was too strong, too big against the younger man. That enormous tongue forced itself pass closed lips in a mockery of a kiss; the damn slug was practically eating the young man. Alex struggled in earnest, choking at the disgusting tongue down his throat. He was crying now, fighting with such desperation it ignited something in Washington's dead soul.

Perhaps he let his nature loose too much, because he could barely feel himself in control when he pulled his own lightsaber from the confines of his robes and launched against Yintta, pushing with the Force for a second, then cutting that disgusting tongue clean off the next.

Alexander fell, gagging and yanking the severed limb out of his mouth in horror. He coughed and gasped while Yintta screamed without part of his tongue, babbling what would have been orders from his guards to kill them if any words could made sense from the guttural sounds the slug was making.

Washington stood tall before Alex, his lightsaber glowing as he let the Force back into his being. It was suicidal, there were too many guards, too many blasters already shooting at them while Washington's body reacted on instinct to block as many shoots as possible.

He got hit anyway.

The pain on his shoulder was familiar, if he were not in a dire situation, he might even welcome it. But at he had failed, he was going to die and Alex might even pay a greater price for his attempt at bravery, he had doomed them both.

“NO!” Alex screamed, louder than any sound around them.

The fortress started shaking, unbalancing the attacks. full sections of the ceiling fell on top of Yintta and his guards, floors above kept on collapsing as the earthquake shook them with terrible strength and no mercy. Washington let go of his saber was the ceiling collapsed on them, holding the rubble to not he squashed under it.

Alex took the saber, plastering himself against Washington as he held the rubble over them with the strength he had not felt since that day of dead and betrayal. The Force was screaming so loud in his ears he almost didn't feel the pain as the fortress completely collapsed on them, rending everything black.

*****

“Please wake up,” his hands were shaking, “Please, please, _please_…”

Alexander pressed them against Washington’s chest, he could feel his heartbeat under his palm, still strong and steady. The blaster wound at his shoulder was not that bad, and the collapsed fortress around them was still and silent now, a prison for sure, but in the cocoon formed around them, they were safe.

Alexander looked up, there was a ray of light filtering over their prison, tiny, almost insignificant and it meant everything to him. He had lived with less for most of his life, it was unfair that after all this time Washington had finally, finally came to him only to die in the decadence of the fortress that had been his prison for far too long.

He couldn't give up now, it wasn’t fair.

The anger was simmering in his chest, and the rubble around them trembled with the Force of it. He screamed into the void and slammed his hand over Washington’s chest, making the man gasp like a drowning man, his eyes wide open.

Washington coughed for a moment, but then his eyes were fixed on Alexander, both sitting on the shaking ruins of the Hutt fortress.

“You…”

Alexander stared at him with watery eyes, anger still too close to the surface. He let it bleed out of him slowly, and with it the world around them stopped shaking, as Alexander knew it would.

“The Force…”

Alexander scoffed, “Yeah, whatever…”

Washington was looking at him with different eyes, and Alexander was not sure if he hated it or not. He didn't look at him like that when he realized he was a slave to Yintta, but now there was something he couldn’t name right there.

“But you are…”

“No.” Alexander said firmly, “whatever you’re thinking, I am not.”

He stood up and Washington followed. There was little to no space around them, they could barely be standing without touching the top of their safety rubble dome, he was trapped with nowhere to evade this conversation, so he continued, “I’m not a Jedi, they are dead, gone, and that’s it.”

Washington stood in silence for a moment, then took Alexander’s hand on his own, looking at it while he spoke, “But the Force is with you.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and flicked a hand, making a piece of rock come to him, “I can move rocks, big deal.”

“You can do much more than that, don’t lie to me, Alexander,” Washington smiled, “There was no earthquake, wasn't it?”

He looked above, to the tiny ray of light, and sighed.

“I hate this place,” he mumbled, a confession that had been obvious from the beginning, “But it is… it was everything I know…” his hand went to the collar around his neck, an action he barely noticed these days, not until Washington was taking his hand off it like he did the night they spoke for the first time.

“Is it?” Washington asked, and it should annoy Alexander that the older man was not even pushing him for answer, but encouraging to talk as if he knew Alexander was simmering with the need to do so.

“No,” he confessed, and it felt… good. “I’ve been a slave for many years, but it wasn't always like this.”

Washington brushed the hair out of his eyes and behind his ear, the tender gesture made him shiver, the older man didn’t say a thing, giving him room to talk if he wanted to.

And Alexander really wanted to.

“I was born in Mandalore,” he said, smiling at the memory of his home planet, “We are supposed to be proud warriors, at some point we became mercenaries, some of us are still out there, surviving after our planet was overpowered by the Empire,” he blinked, looking at the light filtering through the rocks around them, “Mandalorians are a proud race… but as to anyone not completely loyal to them, we can also be an inconvenient to the Empire.”

He closed his eyes, remembering, “We almost destroyed ourselves before the Empire, before The Republic, you know? Too much war, our planet payed the price… and while a new era of peace came afterwards, it was not without opposition… I was born as our pacifist government was already being threatened by the Empire, and shortly after that, the Jedi and The Republic were gone and The Empire grew into power…”

Washington closed his eyes, but Alexander touched his face to make him look again, “I’m not blaming you.”

“You should,” he said with misplaced guilt, Alexander felt annoyed by that. It was for sure Washington had not even been involved in the siege of Mandalore during the Clone Wars, much less responsible for the Empire taking over.

“The fall of Mandalore was aided by the Empire and the Dark Side, but no other than Mandalore is mainly to blame,” Alexander hissed. “Clan Saxon are loyalist, and they are the ones that held their own people hostage to the Dark Side of The Force, they took the government, they gave us to the Empire!” Alexander inhaled, keeping his emotions at bay, “...but not everyone agreed with them, and Civil War is wrecking my planet once again… the Empire has a hold of most corners of the Galaxy, my own planet included… it was a no win situation, and you know what my stupid self did about it?” he laughed, “I tried to fight them, I was being trained as an Imperial cadet at the time, I was meant to be a _stormtrooper_...”

Washington didn’t know, if his expression of horror said anything at all, and Alexander was afraid to keep talking, afraid of the connection he had form with his man to be severed before it even had the chance to fully develop.

But Washington didn’t pull away from him, and instead held him closer.

“Tell me,” he asked, “tell me what happened.”

Alexander grimaced, “I rebelled against my orders, and I was discharged from the academy… my stepfather was furious, I had been a burden to him since my mother died, and he was done, my brother was long gone, ran away from the mess that was our lives at the first chance he got, my stepbrother didn’t care about me,” he should hate his brother for leaving, but he didn’t, it just made him sad, “the academy was my last chance to show gratitude to my stepfather for not kicking me out… family is supposed to be a big deal in Mandalore, blood or no blood… but I…”

He shivered at the memory of Lavien taking him off planet and throwing him at Yintta’s mercy, his life and freedom for a few galactic credits. Lavien didn’t even looked back at him no matter how loud he cursed in Mando’a, Galactic Basic, and even Huttese. He almost begged him to return, but the man didn’t even glance behind when Alexander was overpowered and put in shackles, to him his stepchild was already forgotten.

“I wasn’t good enough.”

Washington held him against his powerful frame, and It felt good, to be held without fear of being hurt. Alexander missed that more than he thought possible, “My dear boy… you’re more than enough, never think otherwise.”

He chuckled, “That’s a sweet sentiment, but it’s just that…”

“No, it isn’t,” Washington stood up, making Alexander stand with him, and took a step back without letting go of his hands, staring at him in the eye with a conviction that made Alexander shiver with emotion, “I’ll show you, but first, we need to get out of here.”

He narrowed his eyes, “How?”

Washington smiled, “Use that power you have, Alexander, you brought me here, you took the fortress down, and between you and I, we can leave this place, and never return.”

Alexander looked up, he wasn’t trained for this, it was an impossible task, and yet… his heart was already beating loudly in anticipation, he could hear The Force singing to him across time and space, the power tingling at his fingertips.

“Okay,” he said to Washington, and to himself. He let go of the older man’s hands and took a step backwards, raising his hands up and closing his eyes. He could see the rocks. He could feel them as if he were touching them with his bare hands, they were so many, heavy and probably too hard to move.

Alexander inhaled, whispered a chorus to the Force, and pushed.

*****

Washington knew the Force; he was well aware it was not solely divided like two sides of a coin. Even thinking that was even The Jedi were led to believe, it was not reality. The Force was not solely light nor pure darkness, and sometimes the in between, the grayness of it, was just as powerful without being too dangerous.

It was not only selfish, but stupid to ask Alexander to lean into the light side of the Force when it was his rage and suffering, and his determination to survive what most likely had woken the power in him. The Jedi were supposed to have a hold of their feelings, at all cost, but Alexander was not a Jedi, and if Washington were to be true to himself, neither was him, not anymore.

Still, the Force was with them, so he guided Alexander the best he could to wield it. Moving rocks and rubble along with him, opening the path from the remains of the destroyed fortress, the place that would have been their tomb if not for Alexander’s connection with the Force. It was a slow, dangerous process, a challenge Washington took to heart, not only using The Force himself, but in guiding Alexander with words and projecting his feelings.

He knew Alexander could feel him through the Force, just as he was able to feel him.

The connection, tender and new, was making him feel more alive that he had been in decades. Washington clung to it like a starving man, and left no room for shame. He was dead in all but his body, once, and now he was not. It was selfish, but he was not going to let go of that feeling nor the person responsible for it, not if he could help it.

By the time they reached a safe place to let go of the rocks, Alexander was exhausted. The younger man could barely stand, and when he let go of The Force, he collapsed immediately. Washington was holding him before he hit the ground, taking him into his arms with no resistance whatsoever. Alexander was awake, if weakened due the effort he just made.

The younger man looked at him with tired eyes, filled will curiosity and wonder.

“I dreamt about this…” he whispered, his eyes slowly closing, “Many moons ago…”

Washington was moving as fast as he could, they were still in danger, in the middle of the viper's nest, there was no time to waste. He moved as Alexander muttered directions, without even looking at the road around them. No matter, Washington listened to the younger man, and The Force around them, the Force that once talked to him seemed to be singing to Alexander and letting Washington listen. He didn't question it, it wasn't his place, and it was better than the silence that had followed him for years of apathy.

When they reached a cargo bay, he wasn’t surprised to find people waiting for them. The wary suspicion of his presence was overturned by their visible concern for Alexander’s safety. A young man around Alexander’s age, with curly hair and freckles, was the first to approach.

“You’re Washington, aren't you?” He looked between him and Alexander, “He talked about you…”

He nodded, “We should go, he’s in more danger than before.”

The young man ushered him inside the cargo bay, closing the door before quickly walking towards his companions, “Lafayette, Mulligan, and I’m Laurens.”

Mulligan nodded at him, then pointed towards the ship waiting for them, “Let’s talk inside, we’re ready to leave.”

“Who’s your pilot?” He walked towards the ship anyway, it looked new and ready to fly them away from Nal Hutta, and that was more than Washington could ask for at the moment.

“That be me!” said Lafayette with a confident grin.

Alexander stirred in his hold and opened his tired eyes, smiling at Lafayette “Best damn pilot in this side of the galaxy.”

Lafayette smiled, “What did you do, my dear?”

Alexander giggle, as if they were sharing a private joke, “I sang to the fucking Force, and it sang back to me…”

Lafayette gasped, but he looked delighted as well. Laurens and Mulligan walked closer to them, and quickly got a hold of Alexander. With some inner reluctance, Washington let them take the younger man from his care and towards one of the ship’s quarters to be properly tended.

“He’s mostly exhausted,” he said before watching them leave, Alexander already dozing off again.

Lafayette waved him to follow, and Washington sat beside him in the cockpit of the ship, watching the pilot turn controls and coordinates as if they had been waiting for this moment. He narrowed his eyes, reaching the conclusion that they probably were, for some time now.

“You planned this,” it wasn’t a question, and Lafayette didn’t treat it as one.

“We planned an escape, better safe than sorry,” he clarify. “Yintta’s fortress collapsing was a pretty big signal that we had to put this in motion.”

It didn’t took them long to leave the Nal Hutta behind, the planet’s capital was in chaos after the falling of Yintta’s fortress, and that allowed them to a moment to orbit outside the monitored airspace, and into space, where Lafayette engaged lightspeed to put as much distance between themselves and Nal Hutta was fast as possible.

“I thought Alexander was alone,” he commented after a long moment of silence. These people were important to Alexander, and Washington was determinate to be part of the younger man’s life now, so he had to remember how to be a more of a person and less of an apathetic recluse, too broken to live.

He felt Alexander through the Force, and he clung to that feeling.

“He was... for a while,” Lafayette confirmed, turning to look at Washington in the eye, “Mulligan met him fist, Alex became his trusted contact within the Hutt Cartel, it was risky, but our little Alex was eager to do something, anything, that resemble rebellion towards the state of his life.”

Washington observed Lafayette, the way he knew the ship’s controls as if they were an extension of his own being, the reference to Mulling looking for a contact, and even more so the tone he used to describe Alexander’s rebellion.

“You…” he wasn’t sure, he looked behind them, there were not many people on the ship besides the ones he already met on the cargo bay, many just one or two more, and their life signal was not a threat, yet Washington was hyper-aware of all of them at once. He was worried, not for his life, but Alexander’s.

Lafayette smiled at him, sincere and open, and that eased Washington's fears as much as Alexander’s presence nearby.

“I sincerely hope you’re not a loyalist, for our dear Alex has spoken very fondly of you, and it would pain me to no end to disappoint him,” Lafayette’s other hand was on his blaster, and Washington had no doubt that if given reason, he would be executed right there.

Washington gave a low laugh. The Force used to be a subtle thing to him, but perhaps he had made even such power impatient with his apathy, and such it was decided that he had to do something, being thrown into a battle he had been ignoring all along.

“No, I am not,” he assured Lafayette, “I can’t call myself neutral either, not after boarding this ship, can I?”

Lafayette hummed, “We can't force you to join the Alliance, that’s not how it works…” the younger man sighed, tired and with the weight of years his face wouldn’t show, “I gave up on our battle, once… if not for Alex I would have just…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to do so,” Washington offered, it was not his place to pry, after all.

Lafayette made a face, angry, but to whom, Washington couldn’t tell. “I gave up on the fight because I lost everything,” he hissed, his eyes watering with the pain he was feeling, “The leaders of the rebellion were proud people from my planet, and my planet is no more.”

Washington frowned, unsure of what Lafayette was talking about.

“Alderaan has been destroyed by the Empire’s planet killer,” it was Laurens who spoke from the door, glaring at Washington for not knowing, “Nobody wanted to believe it, but where once Alderaan stood, there is… nothing left.”

“A planet killer…” Washington whispered, and he knew it was true, The Force sang in sorrow, confirming this to him.

Lafayette’s eyes were closed, as he held his sorrow at bay, “Alex found me, when I had nothing left… and he gave me hope… that’s much more than I could give him.”

Unsure of what those words meant, Washington turn to Laurens, whom answered, “Alex has dreams, sometimes, of the past, the present… and the future, he dreamt about the princess of Alderaan, in danger, but alive.”

“That means the Rebellion has a chance to keep going,” Lafayette confirmed, “And that’s all I need right now.”

“But you are here,” Washington pointed out, “Shouldn’t you be—”

“Fighting the Empire to rescue my princess?” Lafayette interrupted, a wicked, strange grin on his face, “Not at all General, not when our little Alex was in the belly of the beast, and I know for fact the Alliance is still alive and well without me, this where I should be, and here I shall stay.”

It bothered him, to be called a General after he fail so long ago. Lafayette knew who he was, not only for Alexander’s fond words, but something else. He gave away his name freely, and perhaps in the history of Alderaan, the Jedi were not completely forgotten.

“Such blind fate…” he mused, talking not only for himself but the young men in the ship, “I truly believe The Force might be restless and impatient, if it keeps pushing people towards Alexander out of nowhere.”

Laurens covered his mouth to disguise his laugh, and it was a poor attempt overall, ye it lightened the mood, Lafayette was more open with his reaction, grinning with too many teeth at once.

“Alexander gives The Force a headache,” Laurens said with pride in his voice, “He found us, he found you, and perhaps now, we can find ourselves.”

“Perhaps.”

******

Alexander woke up with The Force singing to him, a tune that carried something he could call a voice and a melody swirled in his expanded senses, he knew there was no music and no actual voices singing, but it was nonetheless real, no less beautiful.

And a bit annoying, sometimes.

“I’m up, I’m up, jezz…” He extended his arms, and was not surprised to see Washington sitting next to his bed, waiting to be acknowledged. His presence in The Force was warm, Alex liked it.

The older man smiled, “You see to be recuperating.”

Alexander narrowed his eyes, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Washington didn’t bother to deny it, “What is it?”

“Would you like me to train you?” He asked, and it was a question, Alexander could say no, and he was sure Washington would respect his decision.

“I’m not… I no knight material,” Alexander said with honesty, “I am a failed imperial cadet, a bounty hunter, a slave, and a rebel, I bet you could find someone more worthy of your time than me in Tatooine or even Jakku.” Washington raised an eyebrow, and Alexander blushed, “Okay, perhaps not Jakku.”

Alexander ducked his head to hide his eyes behind the curtain of his hair, but Washington brushed the strands aside, and gently guided him to look at him in the eye.

“You are not a failure, and you are not a slave,” he said, firmly. “Not anymore.”

Startled, Alexander’s hand went to his neck, and sure enough, the collar was still there, but so was the knowledge in his mind that he made Yintta’s fortress crumble around his slaver, ending his life and with such act, Alexander had taken his freedom back.

By tradition, he should pass to the next Hutt that fancied him, but he refused to go back, he was not going to be used by them ever again.

He was panicking, his breath coming in short gasps, but Washington was before him still, his voice guiding him to match his own breathing, to remember where he was. He was safe, among friends, he wasn’t alone.

Eventually, his mind and feelings came back to tranquility.

Alexander took Washington’s hands and guided him towards his neck, touching the collar that marked him and used to give him a strange anchor at the same time for many years. It felt heavy now, a burden he shouldn't be carrying anymore.

“Please?” he asked, and Washington nodded.

The former Jedi broke the seal without even using any tools, just his strength and the aid of The Force. He removed the collar and showed it to Alexander, waiting. With trembling hands, Alexander took the metal and leather collar with the huttese letters marking him as property, he felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, anger simmering beneath his skin.

Alexander closed his hands, his strength calling the Force, and the collar crumbled to pieces, falling to the floor like the thing it was, garbage.

He inhaled, feeling light headed with too many emotions he could spend hours describing in letters. Instead he murmured those words to himself and let Washington witness, he spoke in his mother tongue, and the Force sang back to him.

Closing his eyes, Alexander saw Lafayette’s captive princess, he saw her saviors, and the battle that was to make the Rebellion stronger than ever, the first step in the fall of the Empire.

“Alexander?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes to Washington, and offered him a sad smile, “I can’t be a Jedi, I… I don’t have what it takes.” Washington frowned, an unspoken question lingering between them, “I feel too much, too deeply… aren’t the Jedi always in control of their emotions? My mother used to say that…” he licked his lips, “I can’t stop feeling, it makes me who I am…”

Anger and fear lead to The Dark Side… Alexander lost himself once, he didn’t want to be lost again.

Washington took his hands in his again, anchoring him to the moment. Alexander gave a shaky exhale as Washington kissed his forehead, he could feel him smile as he did so, and when he moved to look at him in the eyes, there was pure honesty there.

“I would never ask you to stop being who you are, Alexander,” he assured, “I can train you, you don't have to be a knight if you don’t want to, but I would like to give you the tools to wield the power you have, to defend yourself from the darkness.”

“To not get lost, ever again,” Alexander concluded, and Washington nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Alexander laced his fingers with Washington’s, and the other man tightened his hold, a silent assurance that he was being accepted.

It felt good.

*****

Washington didn’t remember training a youngster being this hard.

Perhaps it was the chaotic situation around them, or the fact that he wasn’t training Alexander to be a Jedi, but to master the ways of The Force, and no matter what his own Jedi Master – may he rest in peace – could have said regarding the subject, it was not the same approach.

It was harder to keep the darkness at bay when there was so much chaos in Alexander’s mind, but his sheer stubbornness was also an advantage. Alexander had a tendency of being contrary, confident one moment, self-conscious the next, but overall there was one single thing that distinguished him.

For all his flaws, in the end Alexander was a good person.

Force Wilders were a legend, yet Washington believed the reason was not because they were extinct, but at the time The Force was stronger, the path of the Jedi had been the one taken by most of those sensitive to The Force. The Council had made sure of that, as it was the ways of the Jedi.

But the Jedi Order was no more, and Washington had to work with what he got in order to keep his boy safe, even from himself.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to deal with another confused and heartbroken teenager with a great potential to wield The Force. Luke Skywalker was younger than Alexander, and Obi-Wan Kenobi had sacrificed his life to give him a chance to survive.

Alexander, for his part, was enduring all this with as much dignity as he could muster. He was polite for the most part, but his dislike for Kenobi was clear, and this didn’t sit well with Luke, which caused more than one heated argument.

If the older Jedi Master had been the one finding Alexander instead of Washington, perhaps his boy would have never consider joining the Rebellion, much less being train of the ways of The Force.

Still, there were more important things at hand, and even Alexander had to keep his dislikes to himself in order to work properly with the Rebellion. They needed all the people they could get, their chances were small, but there was a way to destroy the Empire’s planet killer, the Death Star.

Alexander was terrible unhappy with the notion that Laurens, Mulligan and Lafayette were pilots ready to comply, ready to go out there and fight and risk everything for the chance to destroy their enemy’s greatest weapon, while Alexander was not cleared to fly.

Washington should have known that wasn't going to stop him.

While he stood in Yavin 4, watching the countdown until the moment they were to be a visibly target to the Death Star, Alexander snaked away into a ship, and towards the battle. The entire set had been a trap, but that didn’t stop the rebellion.

They fought, and as time was running out, Washington felt The Force sing to them. Out there, in the battle field, Alexander cleared the TIE-Fighters going after his friends, and in the maze that was the surface of the Death Star, Luke cleared the final shot.

They won.

******

Washington stood in landing zone as the surviving pilots returned to the base. Laurens was the first to land, and he looked mortified over the idea of not seeing his friends there yet, but Washington assured him they were coming, he could feel their life forces, strong and bright in the distance.

Mulligan and Lafayette reached the landing zone almost at the same time, scrambling to get off their ships as the final ship, the one they were waiting for, landed before their eyes. As the cockpit opened, the strange yet familiar figure of a man in a Mandalorian armor greeted them. Alexander stood in his grey, white and blue armor, proudly showing the sigil of his home planet branded in one shoulder path, and the Rebel Alliance crest on the other.

He took his helmet off, and greeted them with a grin that was mostly teeth, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

“You brat!” Mulligan yelled first, but he was smiling nonetheless, “Get down here so I can slap you over the head, damn you!”

Alexander sat on the edge of the ship, “That’s not how you say thank you!”

“You almost gave me a heart attack, multiple times!” Laurens cried, not waiting for Alexander to come down but instead pushing one of the ladders to get on the ship himself. He hugged Alexander, and ruffled his hair, making it stick out of his once neat queue.

Laurens ended up pushing his friend off balance, and Alexander landed on Lafayette, the blow has softer than Washington expected, so he had a feeling Alexander had used the Force to slow his fall. Whatever the case, he ended up trapped in Lafayette’s arms, laughing together along Mulligan and Laurens, in their private celebration.

Alexander ducked his head, talking too softly for Washington to hear, but he could see how his boy was shaking as he spoke, holding on Laurens’ hands as if letting meant he would lose his friends. Lafayette´s concerned expression was a giveaway, but it was Mulligan slapping a hand on Alexander’s back what broke the strange moment.

“We are with you, Alex,” Mulligan assured, “You don’t even have to ask.”

Laurens and Lafayette nodded in agreement, and Washington got a notion of what Alexander was worried about, but he would give him time to explain instead of reaching his own isolated conclusions.

He would speak to him soon, as the celebration carried over.

*****

Alexander stared at the object in Washington’s hand with a mixture of awe and even fear, unsure what to make of it. The crystal was opaque in its rogue edges, its form asymmetrical, but it was pulsing a light glow in the box Washington kept it, an offering to Alexander.

“I saved this a long time ago, I held onto it even when I lost everything else in my life,” Washington said with so much care in his voice, Alexander felt his own heart speed up with emotion, “It’s a kyber crystal, and I want you to have it.”

The crystal was secured in a necklace, it looked new and designed to specifically fit the crystal. The metal was a polish white, in contrast with the crystal’s pulsing blue light. Alexander extended his hand, but didn’t take it.

Instead, he looked at Washington in the eye, and decided this was the moment he needed to come clean, to be as sincere as possible.

“I need to go back to Mandalore,” he said, quickly, trying to contain his own breaking voice, “I need... there is much to be done here, and now that The Force is waking up in other people, some that truly want to walk the path of the Jedi… I understand it’s not the best time—”

“Alexander,” his mentor interrupted him, but it was not harsh in doing so, “You are my student, I am not going to leave you behind just because there are more force sensitive people out there.”

He bit his lip, exasperated, “Skywalker is fighting for a bigger cause, his priorities are more important.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Washington said with the tone of someone who knew more than he was letting on, “I can assure you he fights for the memory of a father he never met, a former Jedi... his fight is as persona as it can get.”

Alexander frowned, “But…”

“Don’t diminish your own battle, Alexander, all of us have personal reasons to fight, believe it or not,” Washington assured.

Alexander paced across the room, and Washington let him collect his thoughts until he found the correct words to speak his mind.

“I’m not a savior or great liberator,” Alexander said with some anger in the phrase, mostly aimed to himself for not being those things. “In a perfect scenario, I would to be the chosen to wield the darksaber of the Mandalorian, our beacon of leadership made in the old ways, and lead our people against whatever remains of the Empire, but let’s be real,” he huffed, “I have a shitty luck, and no patience, I’m not some prophesied leader… but I can fight.” He turned around, looking at his mentor in the eye, “I have the _goddamn_ Force with me.”

Washington smiled, amusement coloring his features, “You certainly do.”

Alexander eyed Washington warily before declaring his intentions, “I need to go back to Mandalore because… I need to fight in the war against the Empire for my people, the fight it’s already in motion… If the Force is with me, it must be for that reason.”

He made a motion with his hand, making the kyber crystal necklace float to him. He held it over his hand with care, his power was raw even now that he had more control over it, so he made an effort to be careful with it.

“Am I being selfish?” He asked, a question he had been dreading for too long.

Washington’s voice carried no hesitation when he answered, as if he knew the answered before even Alexander voiced his doubts. “No, my boy, you are not.”

Alexander tilted his head to a side, “Really?”

“Wanting to help your people is not selfish, Alexander,” he said. “The greater good is an enormous task, we’re a but a handful of people in the galaxy involved in a fight for the right to be free, if you wish to focus in your planet, your people, that’s not selfish, at least not as much as you think.”

He got up, and placed a solid, comforting hand of Alexander’s shoulder, earning a smile from the younger force wielder. Alexander wanted to do many things, focusing on one, even if personal, was better than being widely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the fight.

Alexander believed that If he could help to get Mandalore to the side of the Rebellion, is he could see his home world free to the united warriors they once were, perhaps he could find the purpose he had been looking for.

He took a deep breath, and nodded to himself. Then, looking unsure once again, directed his attention to Washington, whim patiently waiting for him to speak.

“Would you join me?”

The redeemed Jedi Master smiled, “There is nowhere else I rather be.”

In the silence around them, the Force sang to them, and the song was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes and trivia:
> 
> \- I was debating in what planet Alexander would come from, in the end I went with my favorite subplot in SW, the story of the Mandalore race, and I regret nothing.  
\- In my not written backstory of Gwash, he comes from Haruun Kal, and was brought to the Jedi Order by Mace Windu.  
\- Gwash lightsaber is white.  
\- Gwash’s clone commando squad were his closest friends outside the Jedi order. Captain Rho managed to override his inhibitor chip long enough to give Gwash to chance to survive Order 66, but it cost the entire squadron’s lives. Something that would haunt Gwash for any years, until his encounter with Alexander.  
\- Lafayette is from Alderaan, one of the few left from that planet after its destruction by the Empire.  
\- Hercules comes from Bespin, a planet that remained neutral during the galactic civil war. He didn’t like that and joined the Rebellion as a spy.  
\- John is from Naboo, part of the royal house, but not in line to the throne. He grew up with his cousin, Queen Sosha Soruna, who would always talk about how the world used to be different in the stories of old. This inspired John to run away from Naboo and join the Rebellion (and yes, once his family realizes what he has done and how much he put himself in the line of danger, they will be royally piss, lol.)  
\- The darksaber is a mandalorian saber that is shaped like a sword and the blade is wider like a sword of such king would, it’s color is black and white, hence the name darksaber. It used like a symbol of leadership in Mandalore.  
\- I didn’t wrote a squadron call for the Squad in the story, but I’m totally calling them Yorktown Squadron in my head, *shrug*  
\- After this story, The Squad is still part of the Rebel Alliance, but they will focus in helping the rebellion of Mandalore against the Empire as much and they can, while still doing mission for the Rebellion as a whole.  
\- Yes, Alexander was 100% jealous of Luke, and also afraid Gwash was going to go mentor him instead and leave Alexander (he won’t).  
\- Gwash is silently cursing Obi-Wan’s ghost for the mess he left behind, and Obi-Wan is laughing his ghostly ass off. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


End file.
